


Mayhem

by MelindaCoulson4



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Crying, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Sorry, Melinda May Feels, Quote: Tahiti is a Magical Place, Sad, Tahiti (Agents of SHIELD)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-05-20 12:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19376683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelindaCoulson4/pseuds/MelindaCoulson4
Summary: "I should've finished the job," she growled.He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "No. See, I don't think you have it in you. This face is too precious to you."Shield had taken his team as their prisoners. She was in control now so why did it feel like he was the one in charge?Sarge and May's interactions for 6x07, philinda Tahiti flashbacks sprinkled in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will be 5 chapters. Uploading the first now, the rest will be here tomorrow because I suck and couldn't finish this 
> 
> Flashbacks are italicized
> 
> Warning: Sarge is an assssss in this

Five minutes had passed and he was still sitting in the same relaxed position. No sign of discomfort showed on his face. There he stayed, leaning back in the chair and watching her. Just as he did when he had her in his truck. Always watching like a permanent fixture. Only then had been his choice to sit with her. This time it wasn't.

She sat across from him. His wrists were stuck together in cuffs and bound to the middle of the table. Holding cell 5B would be his new home for the forseable future. The lighthouse was old but in this case that was a good thing. Old meant reliable, well made, and secure cells for their prisoners.

She could feel his unwavering eyes on her since the moment she'd walked in. There were a few flickers of time when something else would catch his attention, but they lasted never more than a second. His focus would always return to her.

Then again, there wasn't much else to look at.

The cell was bathed in darkness. It was sound proof. Only at random intervals a metal clanging could be heard from above. Old pipes, she'd learned.

This guy wasn't stupid. He'd gotten exactly what he wanted. Her in here with him. Anyone else who'd tried to interrogate him was met with silence. No matter what they threatened he refused to acknowledge them. Mack didn't want her to ever set foot in here, but this situation wasn't about her. She couldn't make it about her. This was for the team and the world. She never had a real choice. Deep down they all knew that.

Sarge.

He appeared content, perfectly comfortable sitting in this position. Not at all like a prisoner.

"Oh, by the way, thanks so much for the bruises, dear," he said. There was no mistaking the marks that she'd made on his face, she'd seen them as soon as she walked in.

The one light in this room shown directly overhead. It bathed the two of them in a bright white glow. It made the bruises even more pronounced. Around his eyesockets they were especially deep. They'd turned greenish and yellow. His cheek had swelled and appeared as though someone had smudged purple paint over the spot.

Seeing it gave her a small thrill.

"I see you didn't get scott free either. Sorry to wreck your pretty face but you were trying to kill me after all," he added.

The rope had been a spur of the moment decision. It dangled overhead as the truck bumped along the road so she'd pulled it down. She'd waited in the shadows as he steered the truck. Before she could plan anything out she had the rope pulled taught between two fists and around his throat.

The same ring was around each of their necks now. The material had burned a red trail across her sensitive skin. It hurt to swallow.

She found herself wishing she would've pulled tighter.

"I should've finished the job," she growled.

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "No. See, I don't think you have it in you. This face is too precious to you."

The shared weight of that moment in the truck surrounded her. She had his life in her hands and let him live. He was going to exploit that.

Only for the survival of humanity, she reminded herself. There had to be more information that he had on the shrike. It wasn't possible that he'd told her everything he knew. As much as she loathed to think it, he was valuable.

She thought of everything she'd seen. The weapons and technology set them at a clear advantage. Especially the portals that they'd used during the jewelry heist. If shield wanted to make any moves they'd need to learn about it all. But most importantly she wanted to know how they'd found Deke.

"The tracking device you use to find the infected. Where is it?" She questioned, then, made the mistake of looking at him.

Pools of soothing blue stared back. Those eyes. She knew those eyes her whole life. Looked to them as a source of comfort. They were once her home. But not anymore.

Now they pierced her heart with the sharpest of edges, killing her slowly.

And somehow she swore he could sense it.

He leaned forward, a predatory smile taking over. "Maybe you'd like to take these off me." His hands rose an inch from the table, still confined by the chains. He rattled the cuffs together. "We could fool around a little." The suggestion sounded more like a threat coming from him.

Not at all like...

_Their warm palms were pressed together. The zephyr had just flown overhead. It was growing smaller and smaller in the sky and further away from her mind. It was just her and Phil now. He brought their joined hands to his lips, brushing the back of her hand with a light kiss. That first touch sent pleasure rippling through her._

_He lowered their hands, but kept hers pressed tightly against his side._

_"I think we should immediately get to work on the bucket list," he said. He faced straight ahead but she couldn't tell where his eyes were behind the shade of his sunglasses._

_Her lips quirked up, thinking she knew what he meant, but she couldn't be sure. The seed of doubt was still present in her mind. It was hard to let go of after being stuck with it for years._

_Things were still new. They'd acknowledged feelings and made suggestions. But nothing outright, so she clung to safety. "I didn't know you were so interested in....parasailing," she teased._

_"It's been on my mind for the past twenty years," he revealed, suddenly bold._

_It was enough of a confirmation. She couldn't help but kiss him then. His body was warm and solid against her._

_He held her firmly and-_

No. Please. No. The memory was heavy. It threatened to drown her. Her eyes screwed shut, blocking it out. All her walls rose up. Every tactic she'd used to shield herself over the years came into play right now. She forced all emotion out and let the icy, numbness take over.

Do the job and deal with anything else later.

Instead of focusing on Sarge, she kept her eyes on the tablet in front of her. She pretended to be interested in the screen, tapping away at random files, reading words that left her mind in an instant. Anything to actively work against her urge to get lost in the past - in memories long gone.

He seemed to get the message, realizing that the taunts wouldn't work. She was finished playing his game.

"How's my team?" His voice cracked. It was almost as if he was tired of the subterfuge.

His team. Mack had captured the two men at the same time Sarge caught her. And now shield had them all.

Every single one of them was hardened. They were vicious, like wild animals caged up. They rarely spoke and ate even less. Snow had almost killed an agent by wrapping her ankles around his neck when he got too close.

"Alive," she settled on. That's all he needed to know and all she was willing to give.

His eyebrows lifted in surprise. "So you didn't kill her?" He asked.

It took her a moment realize he was referring to Snow. He thought she killed her?

"I didn't kill her," she said still refusing to look at him. The girl was a pain in the ass, but Melinda wasn't a murderer. Not when she already had the upper hand with Snow unconscious.

"Now why don't I believe you? I want to see them," he said.

The three members of his team were the only possible weakness that she knew he might have. They were the only leverage shield had.

"Tell me where to find the tracker." If he wanted information he'd have to pay for it.

"Let me out of here and I'll show you myself."

"Like hell," she said, unamused.

"Suit yourself." He sat back in his chair again, sighing dramatically.

"Tell me about the tracker. If what you say turns out to be true I'll tell you about one of your people."

He was watching her, piercing eyes attempting to figure out her intentions. He seemed to find what he was looking for. "In the truck," he began. "There's a bag....."

She listened as he described where it was. The moment he finished she got up without another word, unable to stand the suffocation of the room with him.

 

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks italicized

****

By her sixth visit to his holding cell she hadn't learned much more. It was like pulling teeth, except she would've much rather had that job.

They'd developed a fragile trust, feeding each other information. He told her more about the shrike. She told him more about his people. After the second visit he'd given her the names of his people: Jaco and Pax.

Today she told him about Jaco's wheezing. She'd watched his reaction carefully. Jaco seemed to be the one Sarge cared for the most.

 _It's the clean air. He's not used to it_ , Sarge had explained. He'd asked her to bring him a device off the truck. In return he'd told her about the other planets, giving details on what happened towards the end. The pattern of the Pachakutik was that once it came it killed every single native species until there was nothing but the shrike left.

But now the details he shared were growing more and more sparse. He'd turned to using only vague answers that brought her no real useful information.

_How many planets?_

_Dozens at the least._

_How do you stop it?_

_Hunt down the infected before it's too late._

_How many infected?_

_It varies. Could be a couple could be thousands. I've seen worse numbers than your planet. I've also seen better._

The datapad on her lap flashed with a message from Mack: _extraction team ETA one minute._

She had time for one more question. "What else happens to the infected?" She demanded, patience wearing thin.

There was a prolonged pause and she knew what was coming. Sarge was about to go off script and into the personal. Like it always inevitably resulted in.

"What's your name?" He asked, eyes dancing with amusement.

He was a predictable son of a bitch.

"That's not your concern," she reminded him. Despite his questions, she never revealed anything more about herself.

 

_In the quiet of the bedroom, the two of them were joined together. Phil gasped. "Melinda." The blood in her veins ran hot. She sighed, lifting herself again, just enough to bring them sweet friction. Their lips brushed between gasps. His fingers dug in her hair. She never knew pleasure like this._

 

Sarge knocked against the table, fishing for her attention. "Guess I'm stuck calling you lady. You can be my lady. I know that's what you want."

Her teeth ground together, itching to lash out. Her patience had grown thin. There was a limit to how much taunting she could take from him without returning he favor in the form of a solid punch to his face.

The extraction team came then. Four of them in full tactical gear strode into the cramped space. They were men she'd hand-picked and trained specifically for this job.

Somehow knowing she was responsible, Sarge looked straight at her. "Aw come on," he whined at the interruption. "Don't spoil our fun."

Refraining from outright telling him to shut his mouth, she stood back and watched her men do their work.

Two of them went to either side of him and tugged under his arms. He didn't budge, instead he turned to dead weight.

"Get up," she hissed from the corner of the room. It took all of her restraint not to ram into him and knock him off the chair herself without a care for the bones it would break.

He looked to the men. "Guys, is this really necessary? Don't you know who I am?" An air of importance oozed from him. Nothing like that had ever come out of Phil's mouth.

 _They know exactly what you are_ , she thought. A poor excuse of an imposter who was currently wasting everyone's time.

The men remained passive and blank-faced. Again two of them scooped him up underneath his armpits, forcing him to stand. Their arms locked his to their chests while a third unlocked his cuffs. Free to move, they wrenched him from behind the table and dragged him out the door smoothly.

She'd prepared them for this. Hours went into their training.

Do not speak to him. He will use any and every opportunity to sway you. Treat him like he is nothing, she'd told them. It was all easy to absorb in the training room, but out in the field things were messy and complicated. She hoped they were up for this for the long run.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This would be the 2nd interaction of the team with Sarge based on the small sneak peek we got

They gave him an inch, so he took a mile.

The decision to bring Sarge into the control room had been hers. Mack was growing frustrated. Everyday his patience wore thinner. More disturbances were popping up around the world. People were going missing. So she suggested showing Sarge what was happening in the hope that he could help in some way. He did say that stopping the shrike was his life's mission. That was the one thing she truly believed about him.

They couldn't afford to waste anymore time. Naturally, Sarge's number one talent was doing just that.

For the second time around, the team stood together, staring at this man who had Phil's face. Everyone had agreed to be present even though it was like a slow torture. Daisy assured her she could handle it - she would be better prepared than their first meeting. She wouldn't let him dictate her actions.

"Now it's a party," Sarge said, sizing them all up. The agents guarding him stood close behind. She'd warned them never to let their guard down around him.

"Going to do introductions before everyone runs off again?" His gaze flickered to her. "A meet and greet? You show me yours. I'll show you mine." The statement was laced with innuendo. It was shocking the first fifty times, but now she'd grown numb to his lewd comments.

"You're only here to give insight into the shrike," she told him, ignoring his previous words.

Boredom clouded over him. "Fine. Fine," he relented. "What is it, then?"

A new agent, Riker was his name, stood from his desk. "We've got Intel tha-"

"This is like one big family. I feel warm and fuzzy inside already." Sarge interrupted, eyes running over everyone in the room.

When they were alone she could brush it off. But his comments seemed so much worse in front of everyone else. Mostly because she knew what would happen later. There would be pity that came once he was taken away again. Just like before, when she returned after Tahiti.

It was something different even now. Because Daisy was here and clearly horrified. Melinda had hoped that Daisy would still be in space when she brought Sarge in, but like most times, things never turned out how she wanted them to.

Not one person knew how to properly respond to Sarge. They hadn't learned like she had. There was only clear disgust on their faces.

Sarge laughed heavily, even bending over at the waist. It was a cold, false chuckle. A facade just like everything else about him.

Without warning he straightened and charged straight at Deke. He made it about a foot before two of his appointed guards grabbed the back of his jacket and wrenched him backwards.

"Not so rough," he complained almost losing his footing. He stared at Deke, a murderous glint developing in his eyes.

When she'd returned with Sarge and Snow as prisoners they met as a team to discuss how to proceed. Deke had just come off of bedrest and he was keyed up to say the least. He'd ranted: _"well, what the hell is he? His left hand is real so he sure as hell isn't a zombie Coulson. Sorry, May. I'm just a little pissed off. This evil dude thinks he can waltz into my life and destroy everything I painstakingly built for over a year! I vote to never let him see the outside world again!"_

Sarge smiled venomously. A finger from his right hand tapped the top of his left hand. It was the spot where Deke had stabbed him. "Like the scar? That's what I'm going to do to your face."

"That's enough!" Mack demanded. It was rare for him to lose his cool. The signs were clear as day. It was In the way his jaw pulsed and his chest puffed out.

This was getting them nowhere; she stepped in front of Sarge. "This isn't a game."

Not long ago Phil had once stood here with them. Even next to her. He wouldn't have hesitated to silence Sarge for talking like this to the team. It was an insult to him to have Sarge in their presence. She regretted making the decision.

"You." Sarge's eyes flickered over her face, ignoring her comments. "And you." He lifted his cuffed hands and pointed at Daisy. "Now that's awfully interesting." His eyebrows raised, studying them.

She'd come to know that face well. He was about to make it personal again.

"You look too similar for it to be coincidental. Is... _ohhh_ don't tell me. Is this _mommy_?" He asked addressing Daisy now. "And was poor dead Coulson _daddy_?"

_Phil, you're not her father._

_I know, but she's the closest thing I have to a daughter._

That one hurt. Tears sprang but she blinked them quickly away, instead focusing on balling her hands into tight fists.

A low vibration ran through her boots.

 _No. Daisy._ Melinda looked up in alarm. The answer was right there on Daisy's face.

Before Melinda could act, Sarge flew backwards into the concrete column behind him. There was a thump as he landed on the ground, knocked off his feet.

He was still conscious and sat blinking in confusion like he couldn't process what just happened to him. His shoulders appeared to have taken the brunt of the impact.

The hit could've been much harder than what Daisy delivered. She could've cracked his head open if she wanted to.

He pulled himself up. A look of complete shock crossed and stayed on his face as he stood on semi-shaking legs. Any words left inside of him had been stolen.

Remote in hand, Daisy pointed to the large screen in the middle of the room. A picture of a crystalized mass in the middle of a grassy field popped up. "This is what we're all here for. Did you really come here to stop it or do you want to continue to waste everyone's time?"  
  
The picture did the job in capturing his attention. It sparked a clear change in him. He swallowed, settling himself down. "How long has it been there?"

Their interactions were all business from that moment on. 

 

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks italicized

The whole thing had been a mistake. One giant, carefully set plan of manipulation. All along they'd been playing right into his hand.

A team had been sent out to contain the crystalized growth. Sarge wasn't allowed off base, but they compromised and had Jaco accompany the agents.

Sarge had waited until the team was far enough away and then set his plan in motion. Jaco had gotten the upperhand on the plane. Sarge threatened to have him kill everyone on board if shield didn't surrender to him.  
  
After that, it was all a blur. She woke up groggy and on the ground.

"Princess is awake." A sinister smile from Snow greeted her.

Before she could even try to stand up, Jaco grabbed her arm. The world spun.

There were several spots of smeared blood on the floor.

All the desk chairs were abandoned. With startling clarity, she realized that every other shield agent was gone. The platform was empty except for Sarge's team.

"Where-" She started, then stopped short, unable to form the words. Her mouth felt like it was full of cotton.

"Not your concern right now." Sarge paced close by with an air of superiority to him. It was like he owned the place.

She swayed a bit on unsteady legs. Jaco pulled her closer. They hadn't bound her, she realized. That was a mistake that would cost them.

"Oh, what a cutie," Snow cooed.

Looking up and seeing double, Melinda blinked. Sarge had put Phil's picture up on the main screen in the room. The one that was Phil's shield badge photo. It was taken years ago. She could barely look at it without feeling her throat start to squeeze shut.

"Frankly I'm offended. You didn't tell me that Phil was the director of Shield. _Wow_. What an honor. And now there's Director Mackenzie. He thinks he can just replace Phil," Sarge said, hand stroking his chin in thought. "What do you think I should do about that, Snow?"

She couldn't look. With Phil's picture on the screen and Sarge parading around with Phil's face. It was too much. This was her hell.

Perhaps realizing that she wasn't responding the way he wanted, he changed the subject. "This has painted a pretty picture for me." He shook the tablet that was gripped in his hand.

The realization came down on her hard. He now had access to everything. Unlimited information. All personnel files could be brought up right there in his hand. Anything he wanted to know about her....about Phil....about Daisy.

"Coulson even saved the planet from destruction. Sacrificed his life for the..." Sarge paused, peeking at the tablet. "Avengers. What a great guy. And here we have Agent Melinda May. His number two in command."

And there it was. He finally got what he'd been after the whole time: her name. It sounded different coming from him. There was nothing behind the words. Hearing it from his mouth was a pale comparison.

"You knew each other a while. But it was so much more than that, wasn't it? Then he died. That changes something in you. It's almost like...." He circled around the room, snapping his fingers as if he was at a loss of the right words. "An infection inside...starting in your heart and spreading until it kills you. Just like the sickness that took him."

It was as if he had his fingers wrapped tightly around her throat, squeezing with each memory he brought back up.

 

_She sat vigil at his bedside. Time was quickly running out now. It had been days since he'd been able to breathe on his own. They knew this was the end._

_"Promise you'll go back." It was the most he'd been able to say in a while._

_They'd discussed it a handful of times. Clearly he was worried about what would happen to her. To her earlier dismay, he'd suggested restarting the academy. Now it didn't seem like such a terrible idea._

_"I will," she told him. The tears welled up beyond her control. She tried being strong for him, but sometimes she couldn't help it. He was shield. The thought of going back there without him after so long tore her up inside._

_"Hey," he whispered weakly. "Lay with me."_

_She sniffled and nodded. Willing the tears away even though he'd already spotted them. Her head rested on the same pillow as his. He touched her face, brushing the wetness slowly away with his thumbs._

 

  
She watched Sarge circle around the space like a shark out for blood. He did it with ease. His body showed no signs of fatigue, whereas some of her last memories of Phil were ones of him barely being able to walk. Seeing Sarge like this sent flames down her back and curling around her fingers. It felt like she had an oven constantly burning nearby and turned up to the highest setting.

"That wound must still be so fresh for you," he said. Something was in his eyes like he was waiting for a specific reaction from her.

She couldn't understand this. _How? How did this demon have Phil's face and his DNA?_ The unanswered questions kept her up at night. During the days it always crept up on her at one point or another. The need for answers was undeniable now. She was tired of staying quiet. It came flying out of her all at once. "What the hell are you?"

The smile fell a little. If she wasn't watching him she would've missed it. She wanted him to come closer. "You don't even know. Do you?" She pushed on. The grip on her arm was not as tight as it should be. Just what she needed.

Stopping in front of her, his eyes ran over her features. His gaze dropped to her mouth. "I can see why Coulson was interested."

Predictable once again, she thought. His comments were turning to what they always did. Anytime she got close to finding out more about him he flipped the script, hiding into the safety of manipulation. It made her skin crawl.

"Can you?" She questioned, bating him.  
Feigning attraction, her eyes dipped down his front, taking him in. He had a gun holstered at his side and had Snow hovering nearby. _Always hiding behind his weapons and his people._

A spark grew in his eyes. It was overwhelmingly obvious that he was enjoying this, maybe even turned on by it.

Another step forward and he was within arms reach. "You don't say much though," he said.

Despite everything inside of her she continued playing along. She flashed him a small smile, hoping he would take it as encouragement.

"But maybe that's what he liked," he added, close enough now that his breath puffed against her face. 

_Good enough._

She lunged at him, breaking free of the grip on her bicep. She landed a hard punch to his nose. His head snapped back. Her knuckles slammed into his face again, just like before in the driver's seat of his truck. The feeling of her fist cracking against his cheek bone was nothing short of satisfying. The momentum knocked him into the desk behind him. Wanting to make this hurt, her hands went for his throat so she could add to the bruising that was already there.

A warm palm smacked against her forehead, forcing her head back. A knife settled against her throat. The serrated edge pressed against her skin. She didn't make a move. It would only take one swipe to open her up.

Someone tugged her back and off of him. The knife stayed a whisper away from causing her bleed out.

Sarge straightened himself out, pushing off the desk. A computer monitor slipped from the edge and crashed to the ground. "Ohh there she _really_ is," he taunted. He smiled through the blood dripping from his nose.

"Beautiful beautiful butterfly," came a whisper. Hot breath puffed against Melinda's ear. It was Snow.

Despite her outer calm, her heart pounded against her chest. She was powerless against whatever would come. This girl seemed to be out for blood no matter who or what it came from.

"Snow. Not just yet," Sarge ordered, watching her.

The blade left her skin.

Someone cuffed her roughly from behind. By the size of the thick fingers she knew it was Jaco. He kept her arms in a tight grip, constraining her against him.

"Take her to one of the cells."

Jaco marched her down the steps and in the direction of the hallway. She spied Snow walking alongside them.

"We've got details to go over," Sarge called, then promised to visit her soon.

She caught sight of him one more time before being pushed away. There was blood down the front of his shirt.

For the first time in a while she felt better.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the amazing feedback I got on this really convinced me to add this chapter. Thank you guys!

This time they weren't stupid. They cuffed her to the table, then chained her legs together, sighting her violent tendencies as Sarge so fondly called it.

She was left alone for some time. Her wrists became raw and bruised from constantly working at the bindings. She didn't care if it was foolish. She would keep trying until her last breath. There could be torture, but she promised herself and made a silent promise to Phil that Sarge wouldn't get a damn thing from her.

The heavy metal door behind her creaked open. For a good while no one came in.

But Melinda could sense someone there, just beyond the chair, itching to lash out. She listened carefully, anticipating a blow at any moment.

Snow moved to stand in front of her and pointed a knife at her chest. "Sarge sent me to keep you company."

Melinda smirked. It would be easy enough to lure this girl into another trap. "Good. Maybe we could have a repeat of last time."

A maddened gleam sparkled in Snow's eyes. They flickered over Melinda's body hungrily, like a wild animal desperate for blood.

The tip of the knife settled on Melinda's forearm. Snow didn't apply any pressure. Instead, she traced several invisible paths up and down Melinda's arms. Never hard enough to draw blood. "So many ways to transform you."

She stared forward, pretending that the girl wasn't even there.

Snow pouted, not getting the reaction that she wanted. "Brave, but angry." Leaning forward, Snow studied her features. "So much anger and sadness - a dark rage is bubbling inside you," she said.

It was clear that Snow was inexperienced with anyone who had any real skills. Taunting a prisoner with a weapon was a mistake. Patience is all it would take for the tables to be turned.

Face splitting in a grin, Snow pointed the knife at her. "You're lucky Sarge likes you. But you did hurt me so..." Without warning the knife slashed across Melinda's hand. It caused a prickling sensation and drew blood. Melinda felt the warmth as it trickled down and onto the table. It looked like a scratch from a tiger.

Almost immediately, Snow pulled back and straightened up.

The reason made itself known. Sarge strode past her on his way to the opposite side of the table. Two plastic bags were in his left hand. He dropped them to the floor without a care.

A cup with a plastic dome lid and a straw sticking out of it was on his right hand. She recognized the red ice inside as a convenience store frozen slushie.

Boots landing with a bang, he propped his legs up on the table. Clumps of dirt were stuck in the sole of both shoes.

His eyes settled on her once again. Then they widened, but only by a fraction. Clearly he'd noticed the fresh blood.

"Snow, what'd I tell you?" He sighed like they'd had this conversation multiple times before.

"I couldn't help it. You see it don't you? The potential in her." Moving to the side of the table, Snow pleaded with Sarge. "Let me end her misery. Please, oh please," she begged. She went as far as clasping her hands together.

Melinda could feel him watching her again. His eyes never wavered - like he was actually considering Snow's request. It shouldn't come as a surprise, but it did.

 _You don't know him_ , she reminded herself. This was the same man who shot Agent Fox at point blank range. Maybe that's all they were. A band of killers looking to destroy everything. But first they wanted to toy with her.

Mouth spread in a thin line, she met him head on. If he wanted a reaction out of her he'd be sorely mistaken.

"No. We have use for her." His voice betrayed nothing of his intent.

"For what?" Snow asked, exasperated.

An extended pause blanketed them.

The possibilities were endless. In her mind, torture was high on the list. It would never come to any of that. She would never let them use her as a pawn for anything.

"Go keep Jaco company," he said, skipping over the question. It was a clear dismissal.

Snow remained in place, eyes storming. Melinda could see the cracks forming between Sarge's team. Snow was increasingly frustrated at his continued interference with her blood lust. Now was Melinda's opportunity to split them apart. She'd already placed the seed of doubt in the girl's mind when they were alone. It was time to water that seed.

She tilted her head to the side, addressing Snow. "He doesn't want you around for this part. We're talking strategy."

Snow's catlike eyes darkened. She took a step forward.

The fabricated smirk grew on Melinda's lips. She'd gotten to Snow. Her eyebrow raised, daring Snow to come closer and try something.

_Do it. Do it._

"Snow," Sarge called, warning.

She halted.

"I gave you an order." His words were borderline threatening in nature, reminding everyone that he was the man in charge.

The slam of the door reverberated through the space.

Eyes crinkling, he shook his head at her. "You shouldn't tease her. I haven't always been successful in reigning her in," he said.

It was a poor excuse of a scare tactic. She'd faced Snow three times now and beat her each time. She'd do it again in a heartbeat, even in chains. It was laughable for him to suggest otherwise. "I'm counting on it."

His smile instantly grew wider. "Nevermind all that. Relax, why don't you? It's just the two of us again. Alone."

And just like that she couldn't breathe.

 

  
_They were sharing the same lounge chair now, lazily pressing kisses to each other's lips. In an attempt to surprise him, she pulled her sundress over her head in one full sweep._

_Phil's eyes popped open along with his mouth. A comical "wha!" slipped out of him. He sat up quickly._

_"Phil!" She yelped, reaching out and gripping the front of his shirt tightly._

_If it weren't for his hands catching her sliding hips at the last second she would've fallen right off his lap and into the sand._

_The muscles in his arms had tensed around her body, shielding her bare chest. He gaped at her._

_She pushed him gently back, so his head would rest on the pillow. They were completely isolated here. And even if they weren't the palms provided adequate coverage. "Will you just relax? We're alone here." She lowered her mouth to the side of his neck, dropping a hot kiss. On the second peck, she brushed her tongue against him. He swallowed hard. She felt it against her lips._

_Breaking down his defenses, her fingers reached out to undo the buttons of his shirt. A deep sigh escaped him._  
_Gradually, she felt him give in. His hands spread from the span of her back to her hips as he fully reclined against the chair. His eyes looked her up and down. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her exposed skin._

_Straddling him so they were pressed together in all the right ways, she made herself comfortable again on his lap._  
_He watched heavy lidded as she finished the job on his buttons. All the while his thumbs brushed soothing strokes over her hip bones._

_There was just the beach and them. Possibilities endless..._

 

  
Her eyes went to the rustling plastic bag now on the table. Sarge's hand puttered around inside. He produced a KitKat bar, then offered it to her. "Want some?"

She rolled her eyes. There was nothing he could give that she would ever want.

"Suit yourself. More for me," he said, shrugging off her dismissal.

Neither of them spoke. He chewed slowly and watched her, never wavering. There was a clear darkness in his eyes. They were calculating. They wanted to hurt.

Looking at him only fueled her hatred. He had Phil's face, but would never be him. She would give him nothing.

"I can play your game too." He crossed his arms across his chest and slouched even further back into the chair, balancing it on its rear two legs.

Underneath the protective layer of familiarity, he was something else. Something that had stolen Phil's face. It was too much. Her eyes lowered to his chest. Something there grabbed her attention. He was different. No longer was he wearing the worn shirt with holes and snags. This one was clean. She knew that maroon shirt. It was Phil's. Not only had she seen it before - she'd worn it to bed on several occasions. It had a spot in the second drawer of her dresser. That meant Sarge had been in her room.

She could feel the the flash of blood to her face. The burning heat grew inside of her. It wasn't enough to have Phil's face. Now he had Phil's clothes.

She would kill him. Cut him open and make his nerves burn. Then figure out just what the hell was under that skin herself. Whether he was an LMD or something else, she would know soon enough.

"Such a simple pleasure." He lifted up the frozen slushie cup. Condensation rolled down the plastic. She longed to feel the chill on her neck. A layer of sweat had broken out all over her body. The fury inside wouldn't fade anytime soon. She would save it - mine it until the time came to unleash it all.

For now she sat, almost numbly as Sarge switched between a variety of snack foods. He crunched on chips and slurped his slushie. As time passed, he grew tired of watching her. A handful of magazines and newspapers were flipped through.

"This rock really does have it all. Entertainment. Food. Breathable air. I can't tell you how many toxic atmospheres I've been to. But this is a welcomed change." He inhaled deeply. "Shame," he sighed.

He leaned closer, full of confidence. "You're not going anywhere and neither am I. But your planet? _Ohh_. The clocks ticking so you shouldn't waste our time."

That was rich coming from him.

One of his hands dug in his pants pocket and produced a knife. The blade sprung out. It was blue. The same type his team had recently shoved in the chest of a John Doe. Swirling it on the table, it barely missed her fingertips. She would risk a grab for it if the opportunity presented itself.

"You should be thanking us," Sarge said, eyes set on the table between them.

Her nails dug into her palms. She began imagining where she would slice him first if she could just get a finger on the blade.

A makeshift movie reel of all his crimes ran through her head on fast forward. The innocent civilians stuck in that museum when it blew up. Agent Fox shot at point blank range. Stealing Phil's face. The blood smeared on the floor in the control room. The missing agents.

She couldn't hold her tongue anymore. It all bubbled out at once. "You've killed 237 people. Robbed a store. Kidnapped people. Blown up a museum. Almost killed my team. Me." If she hadn't dove out of the way when he rammed through their vehicles during the first sighting he would've flattened her.

"And you'll all end up that way if this isn't handled. Quickly and efficiently," he said.

"There are innocent people that you put in harm's way when you act without a care," she argued.

"That never matters." His face turned into a hardened mask.

"It matters," she said. It mattered to Phil.

"Well then you're a fool. You've got a choice to make. You waste time saving every single person or you stop the shrike with my team before it takes over the planet. You can't have both," he snapped. A bitter laugh came. "That's the problem with you people. You want to save this rock but you aren't willing to make the sacrifices. Phil was."

" _You_ don't deserve to say his name," she snapped.

"This again," Sarge murmured. "When will the flame that you carry for him just burn out?" He stood up and began to pace. "How about an apology...is that what you want?"

She refused to look at him. The limit for dealing with him had been surpassed. She was done. He could get all his thrills somewhere else.

"Maybe I could've gone about it better. How about I promise not to mention your dead lover anymore?"

A pang ripped through her chest. "Go to hell," she growled, unable to disguise her contempt.

He tucked the knife away, sat down, and pulled a Shield tablet out. "Tell me about this then." The tablet slid across the table so she could see but not touch the screen. It read: Project TAHITI. Subject: Coulson, P.

She looked sharply at him. His face was different, changed.

"It's all there. You can read, can't you?"

"There's more to it than this. I want to hear it from you," he said, his voice was low and deliberate.

All intel about the Tahiti project was there. There was no redacted information or clearance level needed to gain access to it. The missions related to it were linked up in the computer system. The kree. The subjects. The memory wipe. Everything was there. What more could he want?

That was hers and Phil's. A large chunk of their history and partnership revolved around Tahiti. Some things were too personal. She'd never talked about it with anyone. Her and Phil rarely even discussed it. The memories were too painful to revisit. And when they did have the opportunity to discuss it better things took up their time. "I'd rather die than tell you anything more about Tahiti," she told him definitively.

"It's a magical place," he said it almost robotically like he was mimicking someone. But no. No. He couldn't be.

All the breath in her lungs whooshed out in that moment. It felt like she was stuck suspended for hours before she could form the right words. "What did you just say?"

He didn't respond.

She looked up at him, thinking that maybe she'd heard it so many times that her brain was reliving those moments here and now. But when she saw the complete shock on his face she knew he'd been the one to say it.

Their eyes locked. He swallowed and appeared as though he couldn't believe the words had come out of his own mouth.

The door behind her opened again.  
"Sarge. We've got a problem," Snow said.

He stood, but there was a hesitancy to him like his legs couldn't quite hold him up anymore.

No. She couldn't let him get away after that. She sat up quickly and was tugged down by the cuffs confining her to the table. " _What did you say?_ " She repeated, adamant to hear an explanation. She banged her hands against the table to get his attention.

Confusion swirled in his eyes as he halted next to her.

Despite everything that had happened, she thought: Phil.

"Sarge," Snow called for him again.

This time he didn't look at her when responding. "Nothing. I didn't say anything."

//end//

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End. Leaving this one here for now. Sorry for the delay with this last chapter. With the way things played out I lost the spark for this one, but I wanted to finish it out. I've been working on something to fix the finale and to heal my broken philinda heart. Hope everyone is doing okay after that shocker.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Thoughts? :)


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